following my goals after the changing of the guard

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Week One @NaNoWriMo Insight

Okay, so it is past week one by a couple days. I’m still only through Day 6 on the stories though. Almost half way through my word count, but only 6 completed stories. Which means I’m maintaining my word count (ding) but falling short on a story every day (wah-wah). But there was something that came to me as I was trying to figure out what to write for Day 7.

Before I get into that, for those not following the page tabbed above for the 30 Days & 30 Nights project, here is the next two in the series and their stats.

Day 5 – Bury Me With My Guns On (2658)

Inspired from an insert I read on burial practices in the “wild west.” And a touch from the Bobaflex song. What do you want? It’s in my urban fantasy playlist I use when writing. Besides, who doesn’t like a good cowboy ghost story?

Day 6 – Deep Fried Deep Ones (5864)

This was based off of a real world article. In looking at it, I saw an application into horror. A place I felt I could play with some Lovecraftian stuff. Maybe not strict Lovecraft, but based on the concepts. Give me a break, we’re making this all up as we go along.

The Epiphany

The news piece Day 6 is based on is about a family of American tourists in Greece. They find a rare, 6 tentacle octopus (a hextapus), beat it to death on the rocks, and then cook it. The only reason they cooked it themselves is because the chef at the restaurant refused to. So yeah, a pretty horrible story. One that reinforces all the worst stereotypes of Americans. But its a contemporary story. And I can’t do contemporary.

Back in college we had an assignment to go down to the Kohl’s Grocery Store on campus and write a short story taking place in that location. No problem. Until the professor asked us to present them.

Another guy went before me. He wrote this heart-wrenching piece about a kid who moved to Wisconsin after being born in a third world country. The kid was given instructions to go to the market for food. He was even given a list. And the tale was about the differences in his world as opposed to ours. He picked up corn by the picture on the can (forget that the country he came from didn’t grow corn – or that fresh corn is offered in the produce section). He found the fish tank with the bass in it (I’ll give the benefit of the doubt that he was near a coastal region of his country). After grabbing a fish out of the tank, he beat it to death with the can of corn.

For me, this was still a piece of science fiction, because even in the 80’s parents didn’t send their grade school aged kid to the market alone to do the grocery shopping for the family. Much less if they were just moved into a different country. One that didn’t share a common language with them. The author had an explanation built into the story as for how the boy spoke such wonderful English, but still.

Then its my turn. Right after the GAN (Great American Novelist). I proceed to recite my story about Cthulhu stepping down into Kohl’s. One foot in aisle 4 and one in aisle 7. But, knowing the I.P. issues TSR was having with the Call of Cthulhu folks, I only hit to the fact it is him. You never see he tentacle-laden face. (Old Ones are tall, yo.)

Cthulhu (of course) brings insanity with him. The leprechaun from the box of Lucky Charms rolls off the box, calls out his intent to kill those bastard elves on the Rice Krispies box, and using his magic to summon a machine gun. Snap, Crackle and Pop spring from the box and take off running. And yes, the Lobster Tank (which was what actually resided in that tank) was a casualty as they came spinning around the end of the aisle and into the next.

Things return to normal as the gigantic feet lift up and take off into the sky again, but the store manager is left trying to figure out how those rolls of toilet paper were tossed all around, water from the busted fish tank soaking into them. Or who had cut the Lucky Charms guy as well as the Rice Krispie guys from a box and left them two aisles over. All three of the elves covered in a splattered bottle of ketchup.

What Does This Show?

I will never write the Great American Novel. Some people have that story in them to tell. I have horror in me. Fantasy, science fiction. I look at a bird house and wonder how many pixies live in there. And just what would they think of Pixie Stix? Would they be as horrified by them as I am?

So in future challenges like this, feel free to send me non-speculative fiction ideas. I cannot assure their safety however.

Now that flash fiction contest I am considering entering though. That one would be tough. One of the required elements you are given each round is genre. ;)